ex-postfacto of space

If there's one way that I could describe almost everyone in the world this would probably be how I'd do it. It seems to me there are lot of people asserting that there are two kinds of people, so first, lets do the same thing everyone else is doing. There's the ignorant for one who are also known as airheads. They aspire to or merely live shallow lives. Their greatest fears are boredom and loneliness. For them loneliness means not having anyone to do things with; boredom having no things to do.

The next would be of greatest fear; that of a malcontent. Their claim is that this is all there really is to life. That they've had it as good as it's ever gonna be and it will never be anything more. There is no heaven to comfort the malcontent. There is no God to keep them moral. We can familiarize a malcontent with any Liberal or Conservative. Democrat or Republican. Lying through their teeth like a politician.

Twitch.

Taking the political storm by example, there's something about the groupings of people that really just serve to comfort people in their ignorance. We all start as ignorant. No one is born as a malcontent. We must strive from time to time to break away from this normality so that we can see it's flaws. Is there a way to get out of the category of malcontents? Does it have to involve becoming ignorant again? I like to hope that there are some people somewhere who neither accept all that they see and hear nor that are intensely and eternally dissatisfied. I hope that I'm not wrong about the Dalai Lama... After looking briefly at one of his books of enlightenment. I decided it wasn't exactly for me although I'm still interested in sometime reading what he does have to offer.

I've been feeling sentimental for days gone by. I may wonder if I'm not just one of those autistic kids who sits on the fringes of a group and can't relate to those on the inside. One of those kids who everyone says is really weird. "...but not in a bad way." Of course, it's politically incorrect to say that someone's weird in a bad way. But I wonder sometimes if I’m some mentally defective hermit who's absolutely convinced that he's living in reality, while all of society considers someone much like myself... well... retarded. It would explain why sometimes I get into ugly arguements for no legitimate reason, even with myself included. Why I question people when I'm told by others I shouldn't. Why some tell me that I'm an asshole. Maybe even a slack.

Plato or Aristotle must have said that it's the mark of an educated mind to entertain an idea without accepting it. I think that must have at least some truth in it. But is someone who never accepts ideas super-educated or mentally-defective? Take Noam Chomsky, an anarchist with few academic credentials as a historian. He's a linguist by trade and by most accounts a rather good one. That said I think his ideas are interesting but I doubt their truthfulness. He claims that the reasons Americans know/knew about the terrible genocide in Cambodia and not that of the Indonesians was that the US was profiting by this massacre. This is quite an interesting theory, but like most, it is also incredibly flawed. Chomsky fundamentally believes that all people are by nature incredibly intelligent and capable of high level thought. I, as you've read, think most people as blissfully ignorant about as much as they can be. The reason that Americans knew about Cambodia and not Indonesia is that American's had no ideas or cares about it. Cambodia, however, was well known neighbour of America's strategic interests in Vietnam. American's cared because they had some context. Indonesia may as well have been on a different planet for most of them. Nearly every arguments conclusion can be deduced if you know something about the arguer. My world view shapes of opinion are all about the underdog, man.

So much yet so little to say, so much space to ex postfacto. Lack of word score notwithstanding. So, I mean, nothing seems worth relating, everything will be kept close to the vest, as in, not being transmitted via the internet to your eyes, ears, and throats, and, er, noses. Okay, now I’m going check my email. We're both old and stuck in our ways. Theres fascination within itself. Its only rivaled by my inconsistent lack of feelings of adequacy towards and in regards to mentioning it. There, I said it. I know I’ll always regret it. And they say you regret the things you don’t do. They, whoever the hell they are, never read that sentence. They never even considered it. Bastards. I don’t know quite how it happened, or, more accurately, at all how it happened, but I believe it has something to do with alleyways within neurons on top of blips of electrical impulses and currents and shit like that.

Sometimes I wonder if this conduit is a place where some come together in riotous laughter, regretful tears, and righteous anger to discuss and yearn anxiously for information on that pinnacle of yester- connectedness. Again, I have no e-mail. Let me slap you. And then me. And then you. Now you slap me. Ok, now I’ll slap you again.



Ok, I think I'm done.